Staring Down the Sun
by Romantic Puck
Summary: After months apart, Percy recieves an urgent letter from Oliver informing him that his old lover is engaged. Will Percy go, despite vowing never to see the man again? Chapter Three has revelations, sleepovers and misunderstandings.
1. All the Damage We Have Done

**Title: **Staring Down the Sun  
**Author: **Writingpuck  
**Rating: **Mature  
**Chapter: **1 out of ?  
**Disclaimer: **If I owned the series, we would've ditched Harry and started focusing on Percy long ago. The song lyrics are from the group Third Eye Blind, from the song "Blinded."

_**Author's Note: **After working on my favorite Percy pairing (Percy/Tonks) for quite some time, I decided to give my roots a shot, and post a new Oliver/Percy. I hope you guys enjoy! The song lyrics are in quotes.

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_Chapter One: "All the Damage We Have Done Now To Each Other"_

Pale limbs mingled with tanned strong ones, in a dance of dominance and submission. The taller boy drank in the other man's lips, pushing and shoving and wanting. A crescendo was heard, as well as a gasp from behind. A caw of confusion drew their attention, and Percy swiveled his head, cold dread asserting that his boss was in fact gawking from the other end of the alley.

----

Percy Weasley's pale hand shook as he gazed fixedly at the return address of the letter. It read, quite clearly, Oliver Wood. The redhead wasn't sure if he was shaking out of fear of anger, really.

He'd told Oliver not to write. He'd told him not to floo, not to "swing by," not to come into contact with him at all. Percy'd told him things were as over as something that never began could be.

And yet here indeed was a letter, addressed to Percy Ignatius Weasley, c/o The British Ministry of Magick, with Oliver's name as the return address. The assistant Minister had half a mind to "incendio" the paper right then and there.

What had Oliver been thinking? He _knew_ Percy could get fired, he _knew _it.

Coldness spread through Perce at the thought, numbness reaching up to his ears and back, making him unaware of his fingers opening the envelope. _Fired._ Percy couldn't fathom that. He'd given everything for this job, and there was no way he was about to lose it now.

The piece of parchment on the inside smelled of sweat and wood…or perhaps that was just Percy's imagination, gone wild with nerves.

_I know you said not to write. And I wouldn't, if this wasn't important. _

_I'm getting married, but I need to see you first. I need to know you're okay with it. _

_The wedding's on the second weekend in April, and I live in the same place as before. _

_Please._

_-Oliver_

A dispassionate frown crossed Percy's face, and he placed the letter into a pile of documents to be magically wiped and shredded later that day. He had no intention of leaving to visit the man, even if it was only practicality that prevented him from going. Percy'd never missed a day of work in his life, and he most certainly wasn't about to dash out on the office in the midst of a war. No, he would stay comfortably in the office of the job he had worked so hard to protect, slowly climbing the ladder to power.

Numb, Percy was unable to notice the water cascading from his eyes, and he cursed the idiot for thinking he could interfere with everything he'd worked so hard to build up.

----

Frowning severely, Percy gazed from the handwritten address to the home up in front of him. It looked different than he'd remembered. _Much_ different. Then again, Percy had never been to Oliver's home and had only seen pictures of it when Oliver showed them off drunkenly at a Ministry-sponsored Quidditch party.

Even now Percy wasn't sure why he'd come. The pale boy had promised himself that he would stay put, lodged at the office. And yet when an injury put him off work (raids were dirty business, and Percy wasn't even going to pretend that he was the best at dueling) he'd found himself striding into the floo portal with Oliver's address flowing from his lips.

He strode up the drive, years of strict control preventing him from smoothing the sides of his dress pants. He hadn't made it more than a few feet, however, when a man clad in blue robes with the Puddlemere logo on them was chased to the front of the house-styled mansion. He was laughing, and another man in similar dress was beating him with what looked like a large fork. They went at this for several minutes before looking up and seeing Percy. The men seemed a bit startled at first, but waved the tall boy over none-the-less.

"Oi, Barbeque's in back mate!"

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**_Author's Note:_ **_Please leave a review after reading, and I'll try as best as I can to return the favor. Flames will be used to bake up some pizza rolls—yummy:-)_


	2. Coming Over Now To Visit You

**Title: **Staring Down the Sun  
**Author: **Writingpuck  
**Rating: **Mature  
**Chapter: **2 out of ?  
**Disclaimer: **If I owned the series, we would've ditched Harry and started focusing on Percy long ago. The song lyrics (in italics near chapter title)are from the group Third Eye Blind, and their song "Blinded."

_**Dedication: **This chapter goes out to allie351, who encouraged me to print her a hard copy to read (which turned out to be the only copy I had of it once my computer died)._

**_Author's Note:_ **Oliver's house is this beautiful brownstone, really it's my ideal house. Just thought you guys might want to know. And for those of you who haven't been to visit my profile, I think an explanation is in order.

I'm very sorry for the late update, however, my computer's hardrive went down about a month ago, destroying all of my files. It's taken me quite some time to amass the resources (aka: dig under my couch) to get these next few chapters up, but hopefully it'll all be downhill from here. : )

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_Chapter Two: "Just an old friend coming over now to visit you and  
that's what I've become."_

Percy hadn't expected there to be others at Oliver's home, and he wasn't exactly sure what to say (but decided that perhaps being direct was the best option). After all, now that he was intently looking at them, he recognized many of these men as Oliver's teammates. "I'm looking for Oliver."

The two who had been rough-housing sidled over, meeting Percy halfway to the backyard, which he now heard, seemed over-flowing with people. Gawking, the Quidditch player who'd addressed him the first time (Krenech, Percy believed his name was) exchanged a glance with the willowy person beside him. "Course ya are, or else ya wouldn't be 'ere, now would ya?"

Percy ruffled slightly at the implication that he might be a tad slow. Nodding curtly, the Ministry official brushed past the two men and strode towards the backyard, hearing them whisper ('a bit dressed up for a barbeque, ain't 'e?') behind his back.

Shooting them an irritated glance, the redhead managed to trip on a quaffle that'd been strewn across the lawn. "Watch out there!" Someone else called out, though considering the sheer volume of people, it was impossible to know exactly who it was doing the warning. It was harder _still _to pinpoint Oliver in the quivering mass of blue-clad witches and wizards.

Even those who lounged beside the pool seemed to be dressed in blue, and Percy was aware of feeling incredibly out of place. It would have been too much for Oliver to tell him about the party; Percy silently fumed, knowing he wasn't told simply it would have been _much _to considerate of the dolt to say anything.

Then again, Percy hadn't exactly specified when he would be coming. Hadn't said he'd be coming at all, really.

Weeding his way through the crowds, he avoided cups filled with what looked (and smelled) suspiciously like green Ogden's, stopping once to grab an arm and ask it's owner politely where Oliver might be hiding.

Having the suspicion that the man was rather sloshed, Percy winced away from the hug he'd gotten in place of an answer, listening to the fellow say, "Oliver's a good man, a lucky man," over and over.

The fellow's lady-friend helped Percy out of his stronghold, and pointed the pale man in the direction of the brownston behind them. "Went inside for a bit more refreshments, and to grab the oinker."

The Ministry clerk thanked her and trudged off, uncertain if the oinker referred to the meat, or Oliver's fiancée.

The sliding glass door was propped open, and Percy quested cautiously in the the spacious and sepia hued kitchen. "Hello?" he inquired properlu. To be honest, the whole event had him rather unnerved. Asides from Ministry events, Percy'd believed the war had been preventing parties from getting this large (wouldn't want the partiers to become Death Eater targets), but apparently he'd been wrong. After all, this party was anything if it wasn't a mash of Irish hullabaloo.

"Really now Al, we're working on the straws, just hold-" A pale blonde called distractedly as she walked into the other room, stopping her sentence as she caught sight of Percy. He'd never met her before, but it didn't take his advanced intelligence for Perce to understand that this must be the much talked about fiancée.

She was pretty, of that Percy was sure. She even seemed rather pleasant, and unlike himself, she was at least dressed for the event. Managing to overcome her bewilderment, she plastered on a smile. "Who are you now? One of Ollie's friends?" The last statement seemed more than a tad doubtful.

Swelling with indignation, the ice-cold man forced his stiffening legs to move forward. "Pleased to meet you, I'm sure. My name is Percy Weasley, assistant to the Minister of Magic." Percy's mouth was moving, but he couldn't be sure _what_ on earth it was managing to talk about. All he could focus on was that he was standing in front of the women his ex was going to be marrying.

Unfortunatly for him, Percy's words triggered quite an unpleasant reaction, as the blonde's words ventured off into quite the wrong direction. "Oh dear. Well, if we're violating some sort of noise ordinance…" She shook his pro-offered hand while gazing behind her with clear concern. "Oliver, love, where'd you put that paperwork?"

A deep timbre grew steadily louder as it's owner strode closer to them. "It's on the countertop, why—" The tan Quidditch keeper's eyes locked onto the uncomfortable meeting between his ex-lover and current fiancée. "Percy?"

The woman had dropped Percy's hand, now that Oliver Wood seemed to be in control of the situation. "I-"

Oliver's strong jaw broke into a wild grin. "Glad to see ya! I didn't think ya'd make it!" He threw his arms around the man joyously, pounding his frail companions back in greeting. "And ya've already met Liza, I see!"

Percy jerked his head in negation, ashamed of the way his icy body melted at his ex's pathetic attempts at masculine affection.

"I'm Liza Harton, Oliver's fiancée," she introduced herself, stepping boldly forward and extending her hand (as if they hadn't just shaken them), there-by forcing a goodly amount of space between Oliver and Percy. Then again, that could just be Percy's imagination.

Feeling as though he'd rather play in a match of Quidditch _himself_ instead of going through this dance again, Percy shook her hand with all the firm structure that years in the Ministry had taught him.

"Perce is an old school friend of mine," Oliver intoned from behind them. The redhead rather doubted they'd _ever_ been friends in school, be he didn't feel that now was the time to be disagreeable. Arguing with someone in their own home could only be described as rude, not to mention that if he denied their old friendship Percy'd have no viable reason for his presence there. At least not one that he could admit to Liza.

Because he could tell by the fact that Oliver had been required to introduce him that Liza had no idea that Percy and Oliver had once had a rather intense and elicit affair. Which _also _showed that Oliver had paid attention to Percy's wishes in some aspects of life, at least.

Either that or Oliver was ashamed. Neither option seemed appealing to Percy (despite admitting his own humiliation, if only to himself). "I'm here as per request," Percy stated, turning back to Oliver. He gestured to his bandaged and sling-ridden arm, finishing with, "I had some time off from work, and felt that an appearance would be in order. Like you wanted."

"Ah yeah, we'll talk about that later," Oliver replied, eyes on the arm while managing to shift footing in a manner that Percy had grown to associate with discomfort.

A tall, balding man bustled into the kitchen before the redhead could respond, muttering about idiot's and Ogden's and shirts.

"Here, Josce, let me help," Liza said, hurrying over.

"She doesn't know and I don't want her to," Oliver murmered to Percy.

He turned around to face him, displeased with the burning sensation ghe'd felt when Oliver was so close behind him. "That's fine with me," Percy responded, surprised at how cold his tone was. Liza may have numbed him, but the nearness of Oliver had thrown shiver's down his spine. "I only came to give you my blessing."

"Later, please," Oliver pleaded, eyes connecting to Percy's hazel ones. The taller man's eyes held onto them tight, refusing to allow the hazel eyes to take flight. "Promise me ya'll stay. We've got us plenty of spare rooms."

Percy was saying "yes" before he knew it.

The answer seemed all Oliver was waiting for, and he strode towards the glass door, shouting, "Oi, Phil, c'mere!"

With his ex gone, the heat from Percy's back faded and the glacial feelings reclaimed Percy's being. He watched unconcernedly as one of the men in blue, the willowy chap from earlier, came running. "Yeah?" A quick gesture from Oliver indicated Percy, and he tilted his head in stiff acknowledgement of the newcomer. The willowy chap (Phil's his name, Percy reminded himself) waved pleasantly back.

"Take Perce up ta the last spare room on the fourth floor, would ya?"

Phil nodded and dragged Percy away from his old lover, and that lover's soon-to-be wife.

_((End /Chapter 2))_

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_**Author's Notes (v. 2.0): **gasp And so they meet! Read and review, please, since they keep me (and this story) going. All flames will be used to keep me and my bestie's sincerely amused. _


	3. There's Nothing Left To Do

**Title: **Staring Down the Sun  
**Author: "**Romanticpuck" / Reggie  
**Rating: **Mature  
**Chapter: **3 out of ?  
**Disclaimer: **If I owned the series, we would've ditched Harry and started focusing on Percy a long time ago. The song lyrics (in italics near chapter title) are from the group Third Eye Blind, and their song "Blinded."

_**Summary:** In this chapter we have revelations, sleepovers and misunderstandings. _

**Author's Note: **I ended up making two versions of Chapter 3, but I'm pretty pleased with the way this one turned out. Let me know what you guys think. The more reviews I get the sooner I'll place up chapter 4 (which is one of the reasonsthis story earnedit's M rating ). As always, I'mlooking for a good beta, so if you're interested let me know!

_**

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**Chapter 3: "There's Nothing Left to Do"_

Unpacking wasn't something Percy necessarily wanted to do, especially not with one bandaged arm. Not when he wasn't interested in Oliver, and had only come to wish his ex-lover well with his new wife.

But Phil had offered and begun unpacking despite Percy's protests. Or perhaps because of them. The redhead couldn't quite be sure of which. He was prattling off information about the mansion, most of which Percy filed away for later use. Not that he intended on staying much longer.

"How long have they been together?"

The question came off Percy's lips before he'd been able to stop it, and once it was out he realized it was something he'd wanted to know since he'd found out about the engagement. It was what was poisoning his blood, and blocking his path to clarity.

The thin man seemed to see this was important, and tilted his head, thinking, as he shut the last of Percy's pants in a drawer. The redhead made a mental note to hang them up later. Not that he was staying, he had to keep reminding himself of that. Moving closer to Percy, he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Oh, about two years, why?"

Percy's heart sunk. It'd been only a year ago that Oliver'd come onto him. Only a year ago that Oliver had swept him off, that they'd had a night of spread wings and freedom…and only a year ago that his boss had caught them, threatening Percy's job if the redhead ever so much as came NEAR the keeper again.

It made sense now. Harton was the surname of Scrimgour's brother-in-law. He'd never want anything bad for his niece. And his employee sleeping with her fiancée would most certaintly be considered bad form, at least.

The willowy brunette noticed Percy's silence, and raised in eyebrow. "You alright mate?"

The numbness had control, but Percy knew he was in there somewhere. "Yes," he responded stiffly, rising. "Isn't there some sort of party going on?"

As thought Phil had just remembered, he leaped to his feet. "Oi, yeah, let's go!" He grabbed Percy's good arm and yanked him down, chastising him for his clothing choice the entire way, something about how it's too stiff to be relaxed.

The pale man stifled the urge to laugh out his sorrow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The barbeque didn't last as long as Percy was worried, and he insisted upon retiring to his room early, despite Oliver's drunken protests. Just because Percy was on workman's comp for the week didn't mean he was allowed to fall behind in his duties. He could just _see_ the papers piling up on his desk as he wallowed in luxury.

Though the rest of the party wouldn't really consider what Percy had done wallowing. He'd unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and had an Ogden's, but refused to go swimming, eat ribs, or join in the chorus line of the "Ollie's getting married, how many timeswill heget laid," version of theirdrinking song.

The fragile bird took off his glasses, rubbing his nose. Perhaps he'd had more than one drink. Percy wasn't quite so sure anymore. In fact, the only thing that was registering was that glasses or no, the paper was blurry. Which meant he'd never finish his report on the missing apothecary products, and their potential dark uses.

Sighing, the redhead closed his eyes, dreaming of being able to relax at the party, and thinking about Oliver. He'd promised himself he wouldn't come, and here he was. He'd promised himself he wouldn't think about Oliver so fondly, but he'd betrayed himself yet again.

A soft click was heard behind him, and Percy swiveled in time to see a olive haze shuffling across the room towards him. "Ready ta talk?"

Startled, Percy's hand flew out towards his glasses. Focusing in, the pale boy was even more surprised to see that Philbert was standing in front of him. Clearing his throat, he shoved his surprise under twelve layers of skin.

"I have nothing to talk about," Percy sniffed.

"How 'bout you and Ollie?"

Fear decided to star in a mud-wrestling match with Percy's stomach. "Like he said, I'm an old school friend who happens to be well-placed in the Ministry." A swift gesture to the work on the desk in front of him. "And because of that placement, I'm responsible for a number of reports and policies. So if you'd excuse me."

Percy tried a pointed stare towards the door. That, combined with what was affectionately considered his "pompous streak," were the redhead's secret weapons when it came to getting rid of anyone quickly.

Instead, Philbert simply raised an eyebrow and reclined on Percy's bed. "You don't get ta managin' aQuidditch teamby lettin'things like that get rid of ya," he retorted. "Oliver paid more attention to you than anyone else here."

In a professional flip, fear pinned his stomach. "It's because I'm from out of the country."

"Liar."

Wondering what Oliver's manager knew, Percy was barely able to withhold his questions.

Back stiffening, the redhead adamantly ignored Philbert, returning instead to the blurred parchment in front of him. Percy could pretend to work for hours. "I really must attend to this."

Kicking off his sandals, Philbert leaned his head in his hands. "That's okay. I have _all_ night."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Annoyance didn't begin to describe how Percy Weasley felt as he leaned over Philbert, who was snoring to wake the dead. Perhaps, if Phil had been in his own room, Percy would merely have marveled over how such a wiry man could produce such a resonant sound. But, of course, Phil _wasn't_ in his own room, he was sprawled along one side of the bed in Percy's.

The pale man had managed to avoid talking to Phil for so long that the Quidditch manager had actually fallen asleep.

Which left Percy in something of a bind. He couldn't lay down, because Phil was there. But he couldn't wake Phil up, or else he would end up wanting to talk to Perce. Propriety wouldn't allow the stiff redhead to wake his hostess for some blankets or another room.

Glaring with the fury of a man scorned sleep, Percy yanked a pillow off the near side of his bed. He only had one choice, and that was to sleep in his chair.

He pivoted to take in the creaky wood and froze when a different form of Wood caught his eye. Oliver was swaying, clearly still sloshed, in the doorway. The Ministry worker's throat constricted, and he squawked desperately.

But the burly keeper's eyes were already moving from the sleeping form on the bed, to Percy, and back.

"He fell asleep," Percy shuddered out.

"I'm no' _that _sloshed," Oliver countered, leaning against the doorframe to steady himself. "'eard 'ima kilometer away."

"It was the only way to keep him from inquiring…about us…"

"Didn' think he went tha' way." Oliver shook his head, tipped backwards slightly, and then managed to stumble out the doorway. "Do whaya want."

Pride kept Percy rooted to the spot, but then the initial anger he'd felt kicked in. The anger about being contacted after all these months, about Oliver getting engaged, about Percy being expected to do something, about Oliver expecting Percy to remain single all this time, about Phil falling asleep on his bed. Striding forward he all but slammed the door.

The talk and door shutting must have awoken the zombie that was Philbert, because he was rubbing his pastel eyes. "Oiii, wuzzoinon?"

Composing himself as best as possible, Percy shot him a look of death. "Shove over."

Sleep clearly confused some words in Philbert's mind. "**You** shove off," he grumbled argumentatively, sliding onto his side.

Vein throbbing, Percy pushed Philbert aside and slid down next to him. "Go to your own room," he growled.

"Maybe later."

With as much indignation as can be forced into a glare, Percy yanked a pillow from the bed and stumbled over to his chair. Underneath radiant moonlight the injured man curled for sleep as best he could in the moaning chair.

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_**Authors Note: **Well, that's it for this chapter. Next time around we have steam, music, and uncomfortable revelations. Hope to see you there!_


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